


Bedtime Stories

by MissDilemma



Series: Tudetale [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Sick Character, Sick Kid, TudeTale, Undertale AU, baby bones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21820912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDilemma/pseuds/MissDilemma
Summary: Papyrus needs someone to read him his story.
Relationships: Papyrus & Sans (Undertale), W. D. Gaster & Papyrus & Sans
Series: Tudetale [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572343
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Bedtime Stories

Papyrus could hear his father’s voice through the thin wall into the other room. Sans was arguing with him again. Probably about medicine. They always argued about medicine. Papyrus didn’t understand why Sans didn’t just take it. It was supposed to make him feel better and it was the reason Papyrus couldn’t have a real racecar bed. 

Sure, there were cardboard circles taped to the bed posts, but his imagination didn’t turn cardboard and wood into a racecar. 

Sans screamed through the wall and then went silent. Did the medicine make him scream? Or did he scream because he thought Dad would listen then? 

Papyrus heard his father’s footsteps in the hall. He held his book tighter to his chest, hoping his dad would push open the door. That’d he’d smile at Papyrus and sit on his bed. He’d ask if Papyrus wanted a bed time story and then he’d read the book that the child clenched so tightly to his chest. He wanted that to happen. 

The footsteps moved closer and then walked right past his room. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised. After fighting with Sans, their father never came in to read him a bedtime story. 

But someone still read to him every night. 

He waited to hear his father’s bedroom door close before slipping out from under his covers. His felted footie-pajama feet slipped on the wood floor. He tip-toed out of his room, trying not to alert his father. He may have forgotten to read him a bedtime story, but Papyrus could still get in trouble for being out of bed. 

He made his way out of his room and peeked through the crack between Sans’s door and the wall. The lights were off, but Sans’s candle was still lit. Sans was fearless - not as fearless as Papyrus of course – but there was something that always made him afraid. He was terrified of the dark. The candle illuminated his room and so did the star stickers that glowed a bright green on the ceiling and walls, offering calming illumination for his older brother.

Sans was tucked into his sheets, holding them up over his head. Papyrus could hear him hiccup in a half sob. 

“Sans?” He was ashamed by the waver in his voice. This wasn’t out of routine, and yet he felt like he was asking for something unconventional. He heard his brother sniff and saw him wipe his face before he sat up. For a sickly monster, his eyes glowed brighter than his candle in the dark. His cheeks were stained from his tears and he was desperately trying to wipe them off. 

“Bro, I didn’t hear you get up.” He smiled as he always did – a joyless thing. At least when Papyrus smiled it was always in earnest. “You ready for your story?”

“If you feel too sick-“

“Nah, I always got time for ya.” Sans scooted over and patted the space next to him by the pillow. Papyrus padded over and climbed on the bed, pulling the covers over his knees as he handed the book to his brother. “Oo, I love this one.” He eagerly took the book into his lap. Papyrus put his head on his brother’s shoulder. 

Sans’s soul wasn’t very strong, but Papyrus could always feel it thrum through his bones. He snuggled up to his older brother’s side as Sans read. Papyrus was doing his best to memorize this book – in case Sans or his father weren’t around to read it to him – and closed his eyes to focus on the sound words. 

“Hey, you’re not sleeping through the story, are you?” That definitely wasn’t part of the story. Papyrus opened his sockets to find his brother’s eye lights peering down at him. 

“I’m just listening really hard.”

“You’ll give yourself a migraine doing that,” Sans joked. He noogied Papyrus’s skull. 

“NYEH! Don’t noogie the skeleton!”

Sans laughed and tried to shush his brother at the same time. “Sorry, sorry. I just like to tease ya.” Sans settled back down to read. Papyrus poked his ribs. “Oh, so now you’re tryin’ to poke fun?” Sans laughed again at his own joke, but this time it brought up a cough. Papyrus lifted his head to keep their bones from clanking together. It wasn’t shallow. It wasn’t a simple tickle in his throat. No. It sounded like there was something deep inside him, burried under all of his magic and matter, that his body needed to expel. The kind of cough that overstayed its welcome and made Papyrus wonder if Sans was going to pass out. 

Sans coughed, harder and harder. Papyrus rubbed his back, as if that would do anything. “I’m – aheff – I’m okay.”

“Isn’t the medicine supposed to make this stop?” Papyrus asked. 

“It’s just ‘sposed to make me stronger,” Sans said. It still sounded like something was still blocking his airway. “Doesn’t handle symptoms –“ He coughed again, practically retching. Papyrus sat beside him, frozen in fear. “N-heed wa-cough-ter.” Finally something he could do to help. Papyrus jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He grabbed Sans’s drinking glass, filled it with water, and carried it back to his room. He spilled it in the hall on the way – the glass was too big for his tiny hands – but made it back to the bed. The cough wasn’t quite as painful sounding, but it was persisting. Papyrus handed the glass to his brother. He took it and started drinking. He was still coughing, occasionally spitting the water back out as he drank it as quickly as he could. It was like he thought he could drown the cough and feel better. 

Finally, he pulled the glass from his mouth, took a big deep breath, and didn’t cough. He put the glass on the bed side table. Papyrus didn’t crawl back into bed immediately. Sans noticed. “I’m okay, bro.” He offered a small, comforting smile, reaching his hand out. “No need to be scared. ‘M fine. See?”

Well, he wasn’t coughing again...

Papyrus took the hand and crawled back into the bed, nestling in beside his brother, but not putting too much weight on him. Sans picked the book back up. 

“Now, where were we?”

“It’s okay,” Papyrus said, taking the book and closing it. “I, uh, I don’t really want a story anymore.” He didn’t want to hurt Sans again. His brother frowned, squeezing Papyrus’s arm. 

“Hey. I’m fine. You need to know that.”

That was a lie. He wasn’t fine. He was sick. He needed to take so much medicine and reading a book made him nearly cough up his soul. He wasn’t fine. And Papyrus couldn’t keep pretending that he was. 

“I know.” He could lie, too. “I’m tired.”

“Wanna sleep with me tonight?”

No. No he didn’t want to lay beside him. What if he started coughing again and suffocated and Papyrus woke up to a pile of dust? It scared Papyrus so much. And all he could think about was how scared he would be if he were his brother. And how, if he was going to dust in his sleep, he didn’t want to be alone. 

“Okay.” Sans smiled, eager for the company. He lay them both down, pressing his head against the pillow and holding Papyrus against him, like he was a comfort blanket. Papyrus could feel his brother’s breath as his ribcage expanded and receeded. He could feel the faint, fluttering pulse of his soul. 

Sans drifted off to sleep quickly, snoring lightly, his grip loosening so Papyrus could crawl away if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He stayed in his brother’s arms and counted his breaths, making sure he was still breathing deep into the night. It was scary. He was the only one monitoring Sans. He could really dust at any second. Papyrus couldn’t sleep with that hanging over him. 

The lights in the underground turned on and their father came into the bedroom. Papyrus, fully awaked, looked his father straight in the eye sockets, knowing what was coming. 

“Papyrus, come here,” he said. Papyrus looked at Sans one more time, not really wanting to leave but cmopletely grateful for someone making him leave. He rolled out of his brother’s arms and stood on the floor. He grabbed his book before walking over to his dad, who guided him out of the bedroom and closed the door. “Papyrus, what have I told you about-“

“I know,” Papyrus said. He’d heard this lecture so many times. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

He sighed. “It’s okay. Just remember, Sans needs his rest and he can’t stay up with you all night.” Papyrus nodded. 

“I know.”

His father clenched his jaw, a trickle of sympathy in his sockets. 

“Go wash up for breakfast.”

“’Kay.” Papyrus went to his bedroom to return the book. He put on fresh clothes for the day. He went to the bathroom to wash his face, hands and arms. Cleanliness was important when his brother was so susceptible to germs. He went downstairs and started helping his father make breakfast. He couldn’t do much besides perform a meager attempt at stirring pancake batter. His father took the bowl away from him soon enough and started doing a better job. 

He always did a better job than Papyrus did. He didn’t even let him carry the tray up to Sans’s room. And he wasn’t allowed inside when he dropped off the tray. But he stayed glued to the door, listening to his dad wake Sans up, tell him it was time for breakfast and his medicine. And Sans started protesting again. 

Papyrus covered his ear holes, bracing for the scream. Every time. 

Why couldn’t he just take it quietly?


End file.
